


Winning Hand

by Verlaine



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-22
Updated: 2010-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 05:44:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verlaine/pseuds/Verlaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do the boys have to show for their lives' work?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winning Hand

"Stand and dee-liver!"

Curry stretched lazily on the bedroll, folding his arms behind his head to make sure Heyes got a good look. "You really want to do this standing up? It's been a long day in the saddle."

Heyes cocked his head and took a few seconds just to drink in the view of his nude partner. Nude. No man as beautiful as Kid Curry was ever just naked.

"Gotta say, Kid, most folks are a mite more respectful when they're gettin' stuck up by Hannibal Heyes."

Curry snickered, then clutched a hand to his heart. "Oh my, Mr. Outlaw, you gonna use that big powerful loaded weapon of yours on a poor helpless cowpoke?"

"Now I know times have been a little tough lately, but you better not have been poking any—"

The rest was cut off as Curry uncoiled from the bedroll and tackled him down in a laughing tangle of arms and legs and kisses.

Despite the delay, they got camp set up before dark. It was Curry's night to cook—and grumble about it—so Heyes cheerfully put his union suit back on and gathered wood and carried water. Not that Curry's burned stew was any better than his own, but at least the taste was a little different. After a few days out on the trail, details like that counted for a lot.

Afterwards they lay watching the fire burn down, Heyes with his head resting on Curry's shoulder, Curry's left hand playing with his hair. He'd have been more comfortable on Curry's right side, but the Kid never let anything hold down his shooting hand, not even when they were as close to the middle of nowhere as made no difference.

As the long still twilight finally lost the last glow of orange and purple over the hills, Curry sighed and said softly, "We've been riding three days on nothing but coffee and beans and one tough old prairie chicken. We're dirty and saddlesore and there's not a saloon in sight anywhere. We've got about twenty dollars—"

"Twenty-two dollars and thirty-five cents."

"To show for our life's work." Curry's fingers stilled in Heyes' hair. "And I wouldn't trade it for the biggest poker game or the finest sportin' gal this side of the Mississippi."

Heyes nodded. He felt the same way, though he'd somehow never expected Curry to be the one to say it out loud.

Curry cleared his throat, and then went on. "Wouldn't trade it for the amnesty."

"Kid, don't say that." He tried to pull away, but Curry's arm tightened, holding him in place.

"I mean it," Curry went on defiantly. "Governor could walk up here tomorrow and hand me that paper, and if he said the only price was never setting eyes on you again, well, I'd just say 'much obliged, sir, but I can't rightly do that'."

"I've never asked you for any promises."

"Nope. But you're gettin' one anyway."

Heyes sat up, and this time Curry let him go. The Kid looked at him the way he always did, trusting blue eyes telling him he was ready to follow Heyes' lead wherever it took them.

"You sayin' you want to throw your life away on a man whose only talents are opening other people's safes and dealing off the bottom of the deck?"

Curry nodded. "You want to throw yours away on a man whose only talent is a fast draw with a gun?"

There were so many reasons to say no, Heyes couldn't even start counting them. But he was a man who made his living betting other fellows wouldn't draw to an inside straight, and that meant the one reason to say yes was worth everything in the pot and then some.

"You've never let me down yet."

Curry shrugged. "Always somebody faster."

"But nobody better. Nobody."

And when Curry smiled at him, Heyes knew for once in his life the stakes he'd won were his to keep.


End file.
